yaizastuff

[yaizastuff]

Never so real

“uhm the ship is cannon 🤓☝️”

uhm actually, the only cannon ship is me x whatever character i’m into. stop being delusional.

[yaizastuff]

Hi there! I just discovered your account, and I LOVE LOVE LOVE how you write Jotaro!

Could I get some NSFW headcanons of Jotaro with a chubby/plus size reader? If you're comfortable writing for that of course :) Keep up the great work!

Heyy Anon! ❤️ THIS IS GOING TO BE MY FIRST CHUBBY!READER FIC AND ART IM SO EXCITEEED

Btw I also added a SFW part to make it even more complete (gosh i love my ocean man)

As always, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.~

SFW

Jotaro isn’t vocal with praise, but his actions speak volumes. The way he opens the door for you without a word, rests his hand protectively on your lower back, or instinctively reaches for your hand when you’re navigating a crowd — it’s all love, quiet and constant.

You’ve caught him staring at you when you’re not looking — especially when you laugh. He doesn’t smile often, but in those moments, there’s a rare softness to his eyes, like the world’s noise fades when you’re happy. If you ask him what he’s thinking, he’ll grunt, “Nothing,” but his ears are red.

You love sitting on his lap, even though he acts unbothered. The first time you did it, he raised an eyebrow and said, “Comfortable?” But he didn’t ask you to move. Now, it’s a routine. He wraps his arms around your waist, pressing his face into your neck, sighing deeply like you’re his anchor.

He absolutely melts when he sees you wear his clothes — especially his oversized shirts or his uniform jacket. He’ll mutter “Tch, you’ll stretch it out,” but he won’t take it back. In fact, he’ll press a kiss to your shoulder and say quietly, “Looks better on you anyway.”

When someone insults your body in public, all hell breaks loose. You barely have time to process it before Jotaro’s voice cuts through the air like a blade:

“What the hell did you just say?”

His tone is low, deadly. The kind of voice that makes your blood freeze. He steps in front of you, shielding your body from the insult like a wall of ice and steel. His hat casts a shadow over his eyes, but the rage radiating from him is suffocating.

“Say it again. I fucking dare you.”

Star Platinum flickers behind him, barely restrained. The offender usually stumbles away in fear, but Jotaro doesn’t stop glaring until they’re long gone.

Once you’re alone again, he looks at you and says simply, “You’re perfect. Don’t let trash like that get to you.” And for the rest of the day, he keeps a hand on you — thigh, waist, shoulder — like he needs to remind the universe that you’re his.

NSFW

Jotaro’s obsession with your wine-red lingerie borders on dangerous. The way the sheer fabric drapes over your curves, like it was made for him to tear away, always pushes him over the edge. The first time you wore it, you watched him go completely still — jaw locked, cigarette forgotten between his fingers.

“Dame da…” he mutters, his voice low and rough. “Sonna fuku kite… omae, ore o korosu tsumori ka?” (This isn’t fair… wearing that, are you trying to kill me?)

He doesn’t undress you. No — Jotaro peels it off you slowly, reverently, fingers brushing the fabric like it’s some holy ritual. His voice breaks into a groan when he sees how your soft thighs peek through the transparent hem.

“Motto misete… subete wa ore no mono da.” (Show me more… every inch of you is mine.)

He doesn’t rush. Jotaro teases you until you're trembling — kissing the crease of your thigh while his rough hands keep you wide open for him. His tongue traces lazy, wet circles that stop just shy of where you need him most.

“Amaeta koe, motto kiite mitai…” (That sweet little voice… I want to hear more of it.)

When you start to squirm, he pulls back just enough to make you whimper, his voice thick with hunger:

“Yurusanai zo… ore no namae yobanai to.” (I won’t let you come unless you say my name.)

He loves watching you ride him — your soft curves bouncing, your stomach trembling slightly from the rhythm. His hands stay gripping your waist, urging you deeper with each thrust. His deep voice rumbles from beneath you:

“Sore da… sore de ii… sore ijou… motto.” (That’s it… just like that… give me more.)

His self-control snaps when he sees you losing yourself in pleasure. He flips you over, his body pinning yours down, panting into your ear:

“Ore dake ni sasenai to… okoru zo.” (If you don’t give it all to me… I’ll get angry.)

You feel the raw possessiveness in every movement, every thrust — as if he's trying to mold your body to his, claim you in every sense.

When you beg — breathless and teary-eyed — he growls, “I’ll leave myself here… inside you, forever."

And he does. Deep, slow, relentless. Every moan he pulls from you is answered with his own low, guttural sounds — primal and full of need.

Afterward, when your body is still shaking with the afterglow, Jotaro doesn’t let go. He holds you tight against his chest, big hands splayed possessively over your waist. He presses a kiss just beneath your ear and whispers:

“I love you so much I want to break you."

And yet, his touch is so gentle — reverent, warm, addicted.

Well well well you all. This was steamy- HOPE YOU ENJOYED! Please leave some requests 🫶

[yaizastuff]

MAKE ANY JJBA FIC OR HEADCANON REQUEST I NEED IDEAS (Preferably NSFW)

[yaizastuff]

Could I leave a request for a SFW fic of Polnareff x reader, where theyre fucking around maybe in like a hotel some night during part 3, and Polnareff finds out the reader is ticklish and the chaos that ensues? I understand if you’re not comfortable writing that so feel free to ignore if so but just thought I’d ask!

OMGGG SO CUTEEE I LOVE ITT

I got you anon, hope you enjoy 😼😼

“Hotel Hijinks”

Jean Pierre Polnareff x Reader

You knew that traveling with the Stardust Crusaders meant late nights, suspicious meals, and enough Stand battles to fill a year’s worth of therapy. But you didn’t expect the most dangerous moment of the week to come from… Polnareff.

It had been a long day — another fight, another train missed. The group finally managed to settle into a cheap hotel. You were sharing a room with Polnareff, as usual. Not for logistical reasons, really. That was just… the way it worked out. And neither of you had complained.

The fan on the ceiling creaked overhead as you flopped down onto the bed, grateful for even the smallest breeze in the thick humidity. Polnareff was tossing a towel over his shoulders, hair still damp from the shower, a loose tank top clinging to his frame. He looked relaxed, which meant something chaotic was surely about to happen.

“You’re awful quiet tonight, mon ange,” he said with a smirk. “Worn out already?”

“I’m just trying to savor a rare moment of peace before Joseph busts in with another Stand user update,” you muttered, eyes closed.

“Oh? So you’re vulnerable?”

Your eyes opened in alarm.

He was grinning now — that mischievous, slightly dangerous kind of grin that meant you were definitely about to be tormented.

“Polnareff. Don’t.”

“You said it yourself. A moment of peace… ripe for sabotage.”

Before you could roll away, he pounced, pinning your wrists with ease. You squirmed under his grip, huffing laughter already bubbling up as he leaned down, eyes gleaming with delight.

“Hey, you’re a lot squirmier than usual,” he observed with mock curiosity. “What’s this?”

“Polnareff, I swear, don’t you dare—”

But it was too late.

His fingers danced against your sides and your reaction was immediate — breathless giggles, flailing limbs, and shrieking protests that only encouraged him more.

“You’re ticklish! Oh-ho-ho! I have found your greatest weakness!” he laughed like he’d just discovered a treasure trove.

“Stop—! You maniac—!” you gasped between fits of laughter, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I can’t— breathe—!”

“I knew you were hiding something!” he teased, fingers now skimming mercilessly behind your knees. “This is revenge for stealing the last mango lassi yesterday!”

“I thought it was yours—!”

“Lies!”

Eventually, he showed mercy. Maybe. He let up just enough for you to gasp for air, still giggling helplessly and glaring up at him with faux hatred.

“You’re evil,” you muttered.

“And adorable,” he countered, brushing a stray hair from your face, his tone suddenly softening.

You blinked up at him, heart still pounding — maybe not just from being tickled half to death.

There was a brief pause. A quiet moment where the war ceased, and his fingers laced with yours, gentle now.

“I’ll protect this secret with my life,” he murmured dramatically, giving your hand a little squeeze. “But no promises I won’t use it against you again.”

“Not if I tickle you first,” you threatened, sitting up.

He laughed — bright, carefree, and a little too confident. “Mon cher, you wouldn’t dare.”

And with that, the war resumed.

Waa i loved writting this!

[yaizastuff]

Okay sooo hello everyone!! <3 I got an idea for some headcanons and I knew I would love to do this! It's a Stardust Crusaders x Y/N headcanons. Imagine a situation where Y/N falls over each one of the members of the Crusaders in a... compromised position.

Hope you all enjoy!!!

Jotaro Kujo

The scent of rust and blood clung to the air. The orangutan’s Stand crumbled behind you. Jotaro exhaled sharply and shrugged off his heavy black jacket, the golden chain clinking against the floor. His dark green tank top clung to his chest and abs, damp with sweat.

He barely looked winded. Just annoyed.

You walked closer. “You okay?”

He gave a lazy shrug. “Tch. I’ve had worse.”

You slipped. Fast. You didn’t see the wet spot on the floor.

You fell into him, your knees bracketing his hips, chest close, thighs flush against his. He caught your wrist out of reflex but didn’t push you off.

His arms crossed immediately, and his head turned sharply to the left. Cheeks red. Eyes hidden.

“Yare yare daze…”

You smirked. “Jotaro, are you blushing?”

“Get off.”

“You’re warm.”

“I said get off.”

Yet his hands didn’t push. His breath was shallow. He stayed still. And he never looked you in the eye.

Noriaki Kakyoin

He sat close to the fire, hands around his knees, red hair tousled. His eyes were on the flames, but he flinched when you brushed his arm.

“You okay?”

“I am now,” he answered softly.

You leaned over to reach for something. Your foot caught on a water flask—you stumbled forward, hands trying to break the fall but failing—you landed directly on his lap, legs on either side of him, your faces inches apart.

He completely froze, mouth slightly open, a dumb, stunned smile creeping over his face.

“Uhh…”

You blinked. “Sorry—!”

“No, no! I—I don’t mind! I mean—I’m not complaining! Just… surprised.”

You tried to move. He instinctively placed his hands lightly on your waist. “Wait.”

“For what?”

“…Let me have this moment.”

“You’re red as a tomato.”

He bit his lip, flustered. “I have a Stand. Not control over my nervous system.”

Jean Pierre Polnareff

Polnareff sat on the bed, sweaty, breathing heavily but intact. No stab wounds this time. Just exhaustion.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“I’m good—well, better with you here.”

You smiled and took a step closer—slipping on the rug and falling straight onto his lap, your knees on both sides of his thighs, bodies close, eyes locking.

He stiffened like you’d shocked him. Bright red. Silent.

You shifted your hips to balance. His face went scarlet.

You froze too. “...Jean Pierre.”

He looked horrified. “I—I swear I didn’t do anything!”

You tilted your head. “You sure? Something’s standing to attention down there.”

His jaw dropped. “Mon dieu!”

You laughed. “Should I be flattered?”

“You should get off before I die from embarrassment!”

You didn’t move.

“You’re enjoying this!”

“…Maybe a little.”

Muhammad Avdol

You were all scattered on the rocky shore. Avdol lay flat on his back, soaked, chest rising and falling. His robes were heavy with seawater, eyes closed in exhaustion.

You rushed toward him, slipping on wet stone. You fell forward—and landed straddling his hips, hands on his chest to catch yourself.

His eyes flew open—wide, stunned, and locked on yours.

For a moment, he just stared, completely frozen, water dripping from his temples, his deep brown eyes burning into you with shock and confusion.

You moved slightly. He gasped. His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist gently—but firmly.

“…What are you doing?”

“I fell.”

He blinked rapidly. “I… see that.”

“You’re blushing.”

“I just almost died. A fall wasn’t what I expected after that.”

“But you’re not pushing me off.”

He cleared his throat, still holding your wrist. “I have no words for this situation.”

You leaned forward with a grin. “That’s a first.”

Joseph Joestar

Joseph lay there, hands behind his head, chest rising with adrenaline, a few cuts decorating his arms.

“I’d say I aged like fine wine, wouldn’t you?”

You stepped forward. “You’re bleeding.”

He winked. “Battle damage. Adds to the charm.”

You crouched to check him, lost balance, and fell flat on top of him, straddling his waist, faces inches apart.

He grinned immediately, blush creeping up his cheeks, but didn’t move. Just kept his arms behind his head like a smug bastard.

“Well, well, well…”

“Don’t.”

“I’m a married man, you know,” he whispered playfully, eyes flicking to your lips. “But Suzie Q doesn’t need to know everything…”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“But very comfortable, aren’t I?”

“You’re blushing.”

He smirked. “Can’t blame me. This is the best I’ve looked all day.”

You leaned down. “You’re ridiculous.”

He smiled up at you. “And yet… you’re not moving.”

I hope you enjoyed it!!! This was very fun to make, but remember I'm a newbie at this so pls be kind 🥹

Love you all ❤️🫶

[yaizastuff]

Okay so yeah I was the only one

Sooo... You all remember the 2020 audios of different anime characters x listener? So like ... Why weren't there any of Jojo's? Like. I would have burn tf out of my headphones with those. Maybe if there were some now a days I could listen to them, there are not? Okay. 🚬

[yaizastuff]

Sooo... You all remember the 2020 audios of different anime characters x listener? So like ... Why weren't there any of Jojo's? Like. I would have burn tf out of my headphones with those. Maybe if there were some now a days I could listen to them, there are not? Okay. 🚬

[yaizastuff]

PLEASEE DO DIAVOLO🤤🤤🤤😩😩😖

Ok so boom imagine diavolo like totally obsessing over a new female capo in Palermo or something and he constantly watches her or sends Doppio to go and see what she’s doing at all times and one day he just breaks and when he was watching her from outside her window (six story apartment, somehow scaled the outside) he just snapped and revealed himself and lowk let his freak flag fly….😛

Tysm if you do end up doing this it’s ok if you don’t though🦆

Heyyy anon 😼🫶 I'll try to do my best with the papi mafia 🦅

Velvet Chains

Diavolo x Reader

Oh oh... You obsessed the wrong mafia boss, capo!

Palermo’s night air was warm—thick with salt from the sea and the muted murmur of people clinking glasses in side-street cafés. Somewhere above it all, she stood on her sixth-floor balcony, unaware that the very heartbeat of Passione was watching her from the shadows. Not from across the street. Not from behind a wall. But right there—just outside her window.

He clung to the stone ledge like it was nothing. As if the six-story climb had cost him no effort. As if gravity had no hold on him, only she did.

She was a capo now. The only female one in Palermo. That alone made her the subject of whispers. But Diavolo wasn’t interested in rumors. He had seen her. Heard her speak. Watched her move. Her presence hadn’t just interested him—it had unraveled him.

At first, he sent Doppio. A phone call here. A delivery there. Questions disguised as concern.

“Is she sleeping well?”

“Does she talk to anyone in particular?”

“Does she mention me?”

But it hadn’t been enough. Not when he saw her that day—crossing the street in leather gloves, tilting her head toward the sunlight like she deserved to be worshipped by it.

Now, she was in her apartment. Hair still damp from the shower. Silk robe slipping slightly off one shoulder. A glass of wine clutched in her hand. She stood with the calm grace of a woman who’d fought for every ounce of power she owned—and had grown comfortable wearing it.

He could see her chest rise and fall. Could imagine her scent still warm from the steam of the shower. His fingers curled against the stone ledge. Something feral twisted inside him.

She turned.

And saw him.

Their eyes locked, and the air in the room thickened with something ancient and electric.

She didn’t scream.

He stepped through the glass door like a ghost—silent, controlled, but burning with intensity just beneath the surface.

"You knew I'd come," he said, his voice low and ragged. “You’ve felt me watching.”

She held his gaze. Part fear. Part… something else.

"You’ve been following me," she whispered.

“I’ve been needing you,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.”

He stepped closer.

“I tried to be patient. I sent Doppio. I waited in shadows. But tonight—seeing you like this—porca miseria, I couldn’t stand it.”

His hand caught her chin, tilting her face up to him. The moment stretched between them, raw and trembling.

Then he kissed her.

Not with tenderness. But with the passion of a man who had imagined it too many times to pretend anymore. His mouth devoured her like he was starving. She gasped into it, and the sound made him groan—deep, guttural, involuntary. His hand gripped her waist like he was afraid she’d slip away if he didn’t hold tight enough.

She responded.

Hesitant at first, then instinctive. Lips moving with his. Fingers curling around the front of his shirt. A low, desperate sound rose in her throat, and it only fueled him more.

He broke the kiss, breathing hard. His forehead rested against hers.

“Tomorrow,” he murmured, voice rough, “Doppio will bring new keys. You won’t stay here anymore. Not where I can’t reach you.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Vanished through the window without another word.

She stood frozen in place. Wine glass still trembling in her hand. The heat of his mouth lingering on her skin. Her heart beat violently, not from fear—but from something far more dangerous.

Confusion.

Desire.

And a single thought that echoed through her mind like thunder:

What the hell just happened?

And why did she want more?

---

HEYYY I HOPE YOU LIKED ITTT LOVE U PLS REQUEST MORE! :)

[yaizastuff]

Hello! Could I request an Abbacchio x reader fic please? Where Abbacchio becomes jealous when a restaurant waiter keeps flirting with reader and he finally confesses his feelings to reader afterwards :) no worries if not! Thank you in advance :)

HEY ANON!! <33 OKAYYY I LOVE IT WE STARTING THIS PAGE CUTELY <333 Also pls don't pick on me because of my drawing, I been on a 7 months creativity block till yesterday 😭🙏hope you enjoy it <3

Bitter Wine

Abbacchio x Reader (SFW, Jealousy, some swearing)

Abbacchio has something really important to tell you, but It's having some difficulties.

The evening air in Napoles clung warm and lazy to your skin as you walked beside Abbacchio through the narrow, stone-lined streets. His coat swayed gently at his knees, shoulders straight, chin slightly lifted. He hadn’t told you much when he invited you out.

Just: “Be ready at seven. Wear something nice.”

So you did.

And now your pulse wouldn’t calm down.

His silence wasn’t cold—just... unreadable. The kind of quiet he carried when his thoughts were layered. He didn’t glance at you, but he walked close enough that his arm brushed yours every few steps. There was something deliberate in the space he didn’t allow.

“You’re not telling me where we’re going,” you said, half smiling.

He didn’t answer. Just gave a small, satisfied sound at the back of his throat, like the mystery pleased him.

You weren’t sure if this was a casual dinner or something else. He wasn’t exactly a bouquet-and-champagne kind of guy. Still, the attention he gave you when he asked—no, told—you to come along had stayed with you all day. He didn’t ask people lightly.

Soon, he stopped in front of a narrow, lantern-lit entrance with ivy curling around the sign. The scent of oregano and garlic drifted out from inside. The restaurant was small, elegant—intimate. You felt both underdressed and overdressed all at once.

The host greeted you in rapid Italian and led you to a corner table. You caught Abbacchio subtly scanning the room, always on alert. It wasn’t just about being careful. It was instinct. Still, he didn’t speak much after sitting. Just hummed low when you commented on the space. Let you fill the silence with your words.

And then the waiter arrived.

Young. Overconfident. Too polished. You barely noticed at first. But the second time he came by the table, he handed you the wine list with a lingering touch.

You let out an awkward laugh. Polite. Noncommittal. But something in the air shifted beside you. A heaviness.

Abbacchio said nothing. Didn’t look at the guy. Just raised a brow and sipped his wine.

The third time, the waiter placed your plate down and winked. “Una delizia per una delizia,” he said smoothly.

(A delight for a delight.)

This time, your smile faltered. You opened your mouth to say something—but before you could, you felt Abbacchio’s fingers curl slowly into the edge of the tablecloth.

You heard it then—low, almost like a growl, under his breath.

“Stronzo.”

(Asshole.)

Dinner passed in thickening silence. You chatted to ease it, tried to ignore how tightly he was wound. You weren’t sure what you’d done wrong. You hadn’t flirted. You’d barely spoken. But he was locked in, jaw clenched, posture still and sharp.

Every time the waiter passed by, his violet eyes tracked him like a hawk. And then—when the guy glanced at your chest mid-sentence—Abbacchio leaned back in his chair, exhaled slowly, and muttered near his glass:

“Che cazzo guarda...”

(What the fuck is he looking at…)

It wasn't until dessert that everything broke.

The waiter placed a slice of tiramisù in front of you, leaned just a little too close, breath nearly brushing your temple. “Un dolce per una donna dolcissima... anche se già lo sai, vero?”

(A dessert for the sweetest woman… though I’m sure you already know that.)

Before your pulse could even respond—

Abbacchio stood.

The chair slid back, slow and ominous.

You turned to look at him, startled. His expression was unreadable, but there was steel behind his eyes. Controlled fury.

He walked around the table.

No words.

No theatrics.

He just stood beside the waiter.

And stared.

His jaw was tight, nostrils flaring just slightly. One gloved fist curled at his side.

“Vaffanculo,” he muttered almost silently, but the venom in it could cut glass.

(Go fuck yourself.)

The waiter’s fake charm cracked in an instant. His shoulders tensed. He swallowed. His smile fell.

And then—

Abbacchio turned to you.

And kissed you.

Hard.

There was no lead-up. No hesitation. Just the heat of his lips crushing yours, one gloved hand at the back of your neck. Possessive. Claiming. Fierce. Your breath caught—your eyes wide—but the part of you that had been waiting for something from him melted instantly.

He kissed like he meant to burn a line between you and everyone else.

He pulled back slowly, lips barely brushing yours as he breathed out through his nose. For a second, everything was still—the clatter of plates, the hum of low conversations, the clink of glass in the background—muted beneath the heavy drumbeat of your heart.

And then, without another word, Abbacchio turned.

He walked calmly back to his chair, as if nothing had happened—straightened the sleeves of his coat, sat down, and lifted his wine glass. No rush. No drama. Just the same cold elegance he always wore like a second skin.

He swirled the deep red liquid inside the glass and took a long sip. Then another.

You blinked.

Still breathless.

Still sitting where he’d left you, lips tingling, nerves wrecked. Your fork was still in your hand. The dessert untouched.

He finally set the glass down, pushed his chair back with quiet control, and stood again. With that same silent determination, he made his way to the counter and pulled out a folded bill from his coat. You watched him exchange a few words with the maître d’. Calm. Low. Unreadable.

Meanwhile, the waiter had completely vanished.

You sat there, stunned, with your heart somewhere in your throat, eyes wide, unsure whether to chase after him or just melt into your seat.

When he returned to the table, he didn’t say a word. Just held out a hand to you with a look that made your stomach twist all over again.

“Let’s go,” he said and you slowly stood up and walked out.

—

Outside, the air had cooled. The streets were quieter now, lit only by the occasional golden streetlamp.

You walked in silence.

Your heart was still racing.

Finally, you turned to him. “Abbacchio... why did you do that?”

He didn’t stop walking—but his voice was low and deliberate.

“Because I was done pretending it didn’t matter.”

You looked at him, eyes wide. “Pretending what didn’t matter?”

He stopped then. Turned to face you fully.

“The way you look at me. The way I feel when someone else thinks they can speak to you like that. Like you’re free. Like you’re not already—”

He stopped himself, eyes dark.

“Already what?” you whispered.

He stepped closer, chest brushing yours.

“Mine.”

The word dropped heavy between you, serious and rough and undeniably sincere.

Your breath caught.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time,” he said quietly, voice grating low with restraint. “But I don’t do things halfway. If I touch you, I keep you. If I want you, I don’t stop. I don’t share. I don’t play games. You know who I am.”

You were stunned. Not because you didn’t feel the same—but because you had, for so long, and never believed he’d let it show.

“Say something,” he murmured, hand reaching to touch your cheek.

“I... I wanted you to kiss me since the day we met,” you whispered.

His lips curled faintly. “Finalmente,” he said.

(Finally.)

Then he kissed you again—slower this time. Surer. And with all the heat of a man who meant it.

---

I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it 🫶😼 I would have loved to add some nsfw but If you don't ask, I don't add 🚬

[yaizastuff]

I actually don't know. Just some weird sketch in my head. 🚬

[yaizastuff]

Okay so pls give me some requests pretty pleaseeee

[yaizastuff]

COMISIONES ABIERTAS! Si queréis más información porfavor DM! Hago desde Oc's hasta personajes ficticios de anime, cartoon..., pediría el pago antes de realizar el trabajo, dependiendo de la complejidad de el diseño, puedes tardar en recibir tu dibujo de 2 días a una semana completa, en caso de querer repostearlo, tendréis que darme créditos, muchas gracias!

[yaizastuff]

COMMISSIONS OPEN! If you want more information please DM! I make from Oc's to fictional anime characters, cartoons..., I would ask for payment before doing the work, depending on the complexity of the design, it can take from 2 days to a full week to receive your drawing, in case you want to repost it , you will have to give me credits, thank you very much!

[yaizastuff]

Stromae is one of my favorite artists, and after so long waiting to see him again, I couldnt do less than a drawing of him in his new song "L'Enfer". Hope you all like it <3

Stromae est l'un de mes artistes préférés, et après tant d'attente de le revoir, je ne pouvais pas faire moins qu'un dessin de lui dans sa nouvelle chanson "L'Enfer".

J'espère que vous l'aimez tous <3

[yaizastuff]

Please Read!

Feel free to reblog ^^

Slowly writing stuff (im sorry)

JJBA requests are Open

Date Everything! requests are Open

Inbox: 0

WIP: 0

RULES

When requests are closed any new asks will be put in line

I'm good with both nsfw and sfw.

Minors stay out please

Everyone is 18+

I'll write for female. That's all I'm comfortable writing. I'm not very good at LGTB+ writings, im sorry!

No piss, vomit, feet, or scat cause that's nasty.

No religion kinks, I'm Christian and it makes me SUPER uncomfortable.

No Politics

I don't write character x character

From part 1 to 6

If I see something I don't like, it will be deleted.

If I ever go dark and just stop posting for a long time.

[yaizastuff]

This is very simple I think, but it has something that I like ngl

@inktober

[yaizastuff]

People I'm going to participate in the InkTober 2021!